


Eager

by TooSel



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Body Worship, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Smut, Top John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 18:51:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10224794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooSel/pseuds/TooSel
Summary: “God, you're so eager. Look at you.” He traces his cheekbone with his thumb, his own lips parted in desire. “Gorgeous.”Sherlock tries to huff, but it comes out as more of a breathless sigh. John's lips curve up at the sound. “What do you want, love?” he murmurs, bending down to press a kiss to his lips. “Whatever you want, I'll give it to you. I want to make you feel good.”





	

“There you are. Busy?”

Sherlock, in the middle of preparing a cup of tea, halts in his movements at the sound of John's rumbling voice. He steps behind him before he can turn, his arms coming around his waist as he corners him against the kitchen counter. He presses up to him, and Sherlock's lips curve upwards as his suspicion proves true.

“John,” he says in acknowledgement, pushing back on the beginning erection poking him from behind. “Not particularly, no.”

John chuckles at the smile in his voice. “Hmm. Lucky. You up for a go, love?”

His hands travel over the fabric of his shirt, down to where Sherlock's cock is twitching in interest at this new development. He brushes the waistband of his trousers before slipping his fingers beneath it, caressing the warm skin of his groin.

Sherlock pretends to take a scandalised breath even as his fingers wrap around John's wrist, guiding him downwards. “John, are you propositioning me?”

He can feel John's grin where his cheek is resting on his back. “Is it working?”

Sherlock turns in his arms, pressing his swelling arousal against John's hip as he pulls him closer, his cup of tea forgotten. “Do you even have to ask?”

John smirks up at him, his eyes dropping to his mouth. He reaches for his face and lightly traces his bottom lip. Sherlock's breath hitches at the touch to the sensitive flesh.

“I missed you, you know.”

“We had sex yesterday,” Sherlock points out, though he is distracted by John's tongue darting out between his lips.

John raises his eyebrows. “Your point is?”

“Never mind,” Sherlock murmurs, bending down to catch his lips in a kiss he returns readily. He sighs into his mouth, sliding his hands over John's back until they rest on his hips. “Any specific ideas?”

“One or two, yeah,” John says, leaning in to tease his lower lip with a lick of his tongue before taking his hands, tugging at them to pull him along. “Though I'm up for anything, really.”

“Are you now?”

John chuckles. “Come on, I'd much rather show you.”

Sherlock lets himself be guided willingly, his blood already rushing downwards in anticipation of what they are about to do. They stop short in the doorway as John turns around and presses him up against the frame, meeting him for a demanding kiss. The wood is hard against Sherlock's back but he is too absorbed in the touch to care, returning the kiss with fervour as he clutches John's jumper.

“Off,” he demands against his lips, impatiently tugging at the hem. John doesn't need to be told twice. They rid themselves of their clothes hastily, getting tangled as they attempt to undress each other. Sherlock chuckles at the resulting delay and John joins in on the sound before leaving the undressing to Sherlock, instead stretching to kiss the mirth right out of his mouth.

By the time their last clothes hit the ground they are both hard, and Sherlock can't get close to John soon enough. He drops down on the mattress, wriggling backwards until he's flat on his back. John follows him onto the sheets, and Sherlock pulls him down as soon he crawls over him, bracketing his hips with his knees.

The desperately wanted closeness has an immediate effect on his cock, which is twitching in need of attention. He curls his hands around John's nape, taking a moment to drink him in. Their faces are close together, lips parted in anticipation. John gazes into his eyes, mere inches from him, before leaning in to cross the last bit of distance between them. Sherlock lets out a small sigh as he parts his lips further, welcoming him into his mouth. Despite their hurry to get undressed, there is no rush now. John just kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him until Sherlock is breathless beneath him. His hands settle on his body as Sherlock wraps his arms around John's back, brushing his sides as they move ever so softly, effortlessly teasing Sherlock into avid eagerness.

“John,” he murmurs, immediately seeking out his lips again. He can feel the calluses on John's hands as they slide over his smooth skin, a stark contrast to his gentle touch, and he groans at the sensation, keening under his feather-light ministrations. John makes a sound in response, deepening the kiss as his hands wander lower. Sherlock's breath speeds up as he caresses his stomach before settling on his hips. He trembles when John continues to explore him with the faintest of touches, too soft, too light, leaving him with just a hint of what he's beginning to crave desperately.

He gasps into John's mouth when he brushes the sensitive skin on the inside of Sherlock's thigh, so close to where he wants him, the touch full of promise and teasing and still far from enough. He breaks the kiss for air, opening his eyes. His gaze moves downwards, following the path of John's hands on his body. Despite the years that lie between his time abroad and now, there is a darker shade to John's skin that just won't fade, emphasised by the paleness of Sherlock's own. His hands look beautiful on Sherlock's body, making for a mouth-watering sight as they caress him into a state of keen arousal.

Sherlock lets out something embarrassingly close to a whine as John withdraws his hands from his groin, instead trailing back upwards with light brushes of his fingertips. Sherlock digs his nails into his back, trying to press closer, to get some friction where the weight of his body is resting on him. John grins into the kiss, patiently continuing the torturous movements of his steady, broad, wonderful hands on his skin. Knowing full well the effects they have on Sherlock, he appeases him with deep, staggering kisses until Sherlock is moaning softly into his mouth. He bucks his hips involuntarily when John's thumb brushes his nipple, his entire body trembling in anticipation, and John draws back, blinking as he takes the sight of him in.

“God, you're so eager. Look at you.” He traces his cheekbone with his thumb, his own lips parted in desire. “Gorgeous.”

Sherlock tries to huff, but it comes out as more of a breathless sigh. John's lips curve up at the sound. “What do you want, love?” he murmurs, bending down to press a kiss to his lips. “Whatever you want, I'll give it to you. I want to make you feel good.”

“You always make me feel good,” Sherlock replies, smiling when John gives him another kiss for that. He wraps his arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “I want you inside me,” he then whispers, feeling the tips of John's soft hair between his fingers. “I want you to fuck me, if you're amenable.”

“Of course,” John groans, devouring his lips in a way that borders on filthy before drawing back to plant wet kisses along his jaw. Sherlock tilts his head to give him better access when he starts nibbling the skin, closing his eyes with a sigh. “Of course, yeah. Absolutely.”

Sherlock drops his arms and splays on the mattress, giving himself over to John to do with as he pleases. John doesn't reach for the lube right away, instead devoting himself to exploring Sherlock with his mouth, slowly making his way downwards. Sherlock is no stranger to the gentleness John meets him with by now, but there's a part of him that's still taken by surprise every time. He kisses Sherlock's body like it's something so beautiful, so worthy of praise and worship, and it's that reverence that has Sherlock shivering as he leaves a trail all over him, soft gasps escaping him on their own account.

Both of his nipples get a lengthy, teasing exploration with lips, teeth and tongue alike until Sherlock is writhing beneath the touch. John knows just how sensitive Sherlock is here, would know it even if his gasps weren't giving it away, and he makes it a point to draw as much arousal from the two tiny buds as he can. When Sherlock is clutching his shoulder he eases off with a final lingering peck before he kisses a wet line down his stomach, smiling when Sherlock's breath hitches. He stops at his belly button, nuzzling the dent at length and drawing a shaky laugh from Sherlock before continuing with his open-mouthed kisses from his quivering stomach down to his hips.

Sherlock lets his legs fall open once he reaches the juncture of his thigh. He watches John settle between them, kissing the soft flesh on the inside before he turns his head and presses a teasing kiss to his cock. Sherlock gasps, feeling the touch go through him like a bolt. John draws back at the sound and does the same to Sherlock's perineum, lingering there for a moment before he straightens to grab a pillow. He nudges Sherlock's thigh and stuffs it under his arse once he lifts his hips. Sherlock wriggles around to get comfortable and spreads his legs wider while John reaches for the lube.

The click of the bottle sends a shiver of anticipation down Sherlock's spine. He licks his lips, watching John from beneath his lashes. He squeezes a good amount of lube onto his fingers, then rubs his hands together in an attempt to warm it up. The touch of his finger to Sherlock's most private area is still cool, but he is used to it, marvels at it and the connotations it carries. He loves this part, craves John's fingers inside him like air, and he knows that his responsiveness makes it a particularly enjoyable act for both of them.

John just strokes him gently for a moment, massaging the tight ring, then glances up to check his face. “Ready?”

Sherlock nods curtly, tilting his hips up. John gently circles his entrance, spreading the lube as he probes at the muscle before he slowly presses the tip of his finger in. Sherlock gasps, letting out a groan as John pushes in until the first knuckle, then the second, before he goes all the way. He barely has time to adjust to the sensation before John twists his finger, crooking the digit as he brushes his insides. A shuddering breath escapes Sherlock. He takes a moment to relax, then pushes back on the finger, signalling him to go on.

John lets him adjust for a while, pushing in and out slowly as he waits for his body to grow accustomed to the stretch. It doesn't take long, the effects of last night's activities still noticeable. Sherlock is soon relaxed enough to want more, and John, sensing his impatience, withdraws his finger only to gently press a second one in alongside it as he returns to his entrance.

Sherlock's mouth falls open at the heightened stretch. It's almost uncomfortable, but he knows his body will welcome the touch in due time. And it's not bad at all. He even finds himself enjoying the mix of too much and not enough, drawing arousal from the addictive duality. He forces himself to take deep, deliberate breaths, encouraging John to go deeper with a push of his hips. He wants more, _needs_ more.

“That's it,” he breaths out when John slides in deeper, feeling his breath speeding up in time with John's rhythm as he pushes in farther, back and forth, opening him gradually. It's not long before he spreads his fingers, gently working him loose as the inner walls of his body give way to the stretch. Sherlock takes a sharp breath.

“Good?” John murmurs when Sherlock's body gives an involuntary shake, kissing his stomach before he looks at him with a smile.

“ _Yes._ Go on, more, please.”

John's smile turns wicked, and his eyes narrow in concentration as he deliberately seeks out the spot he's been avoiding so far. Sherlock can't help the moan slipping from his mouth when he brushes his prostate, letting a spark of arousal flare up inside him. He barely has time to catch his breath before John rubs the sensitive nub again, sending him into a state of acute desperation. His limbs jolt as he tries to grasp the sheets between his shaking fingers, releasing a deep breath as his nerves stand to attention.

“Fuck,” he breathes out when his ability to articulate himself returns, trying to push back on his fingers. “Again, that's- God. John.”

John complies, apparently having decided that he wants to turn Sherlock into a writhing mess with nothing but his fingers. And he's so wickedly good at it too, a distant part of Sherlock's brain notes. Entirely too good, reading Sherlock's reactions as easily as a book, knowing precisely how much pressure is needed where to make him keen under his touch. He brushes over his prostate again and again, perfectly aware of how well Sherlock responds to this particular stimulation, making pulses of pleasure ripple through him. His cock feels almost painfully hard by now, aching for the smallest bit of attention.

Sherlock whimpers when John leaves his body, squeezing a little more lube onto his fingers before mercilessly pushing in again, slipping past the loosened ring of muscle much easier now thanks to his lengthy preparations. Sherlock is ready to take more, having adjusted to the comfortable fit of two of John's digits. Despite his rather small hands, John's fingers feel surprisingly thick inside him. Sherlock marvels at the sensation of them inside his body, fancies he can feel every callus and knuckle from the inside. He gasps when John pulls out only to add a third finger, deepening the stretch to a point that has Sherlock whimpering on his next exhale.

“Alright?” John murmurs and Sherlock nods fervently, canting his hips to ease the slide, the duality of pressure and arousal leaving him trembling. It's so much and still not enough, he feels so full with John and yet craves more, deeper, harder.

“More, _please,_ ” he gasps out, and John bows down to kiss him before twisting his fingers and starting on a rhythm that brushes his prostate every so often, leaving Sherlock a writhing mess on the sheets. His body relaxes under the ministrations, welcomes the slick slide of his capable fingers. He can feel his cock starting to leak, yearning for attention.

“Oh god, John, please,” he lets out, then cuts himself off with a sound so high it's almost a whimper when John deliberately rubs his prostate again. His eyes fall closed as he surrenders to the waves of pleasure, feeling hazy with the sensations clouding his mind. A thin layer of sweat is forming on his skin, collecting in beads on his forehead.

The soft brush of a finger to his flushed cheeks makes Sherlock turn his head, instinctively seeking the contact.

“God,” John murmurs, “you're a marvel. You're so beautiful, look at you. So eager for me, just gorgeous. I bet you could come untouched.”

A sound escapes Sherlock's throat that is close to a whine. He is quite sure of the fact himself, but like this, yearning for John's touch like air, he is not too keen on finding out. John, of course, knows exactly what he is thinking - he always does – and has mercy on him.

Sherlock's mouth falls open and he lets out a moan when John's hand wraps around his erection, the sound quickly turning into a whimper when his thumb brushes the wet tip, spreading the precome on his touch-starved skin.

“John,” he begs when his fingers remain where they are, and John chuckles before complying to the unspoken plea. He slides his fingers down his erection once, then falls into a rhythm that soon has Sherlock letting out little moans at regular intervals.

It can't be longer than a few minutes, but Sherlock is completely oblivious to the passage of time as John steadily takes him closer to his impending climax, already building in the pit of his stomach. He's caught up in the two sensations of John's fingers moving inside him and around him, expertly setting every cell of his body ablaze with desire. He is aware of the desperate sounds falling from his lips, incoherent pleas and curses that he can't be bothered to pay attention to as his entire body trembles with the anticipation of his mounting orgasm.

He's not going to take much longer.

“I'm close, I'm close,” Sherlock babbles, grasping at the sheets beneath him. John looks at him with parted lips, his chest heaving as he strokes him, never once faltering in his movements.

“God, you are. Look at you. Do you want to come like this?”

“Yes,” Sherlock gasps out, quivering under John's ministrations. “Oh god, oh god, John- but I, ah, I want you in me, your cock-”

“It's okay, love,” he hushes him, licking his lips as he gazes at his face, drinking in every twitch of his expression. “We've got all day. We'll go again, yeah? Christ, you're so close. Just let go. That's it. I've got you.”

Sherlock bucks his hips as John murmurs to him, desperate for release, and when John rubs his prostate again in time with his rhythmic strokes Sherlock is done for.

He cries out as his orgasm crashes over him, pulsing through his limbs in waves of pure white bliss. His heart pounds in his chest as the pleasure consumes him, makes him arch off the sheets as he spends himself over John's hand and his own stomach. He is only distantly aware of the whimper escaping him as he trembles from the intensity of his release, his entire focus narrowing on John inside him, on top of him, around him, leaving him limp and boneless.

“Jesus,” John murmurs, his own voice hoarse. His fingers are still inside him, working him through his orgasm with gentle thrusts. “That's it, that's so bloody gorgeous, love. So beautiful.”

“John,” Sherlock gasps, his body still shaking with pleasure. John lets go of his cock, wiping his fingers on the sheets before he takes his hand, locking them together as he leans in to kiss him. His fingers gently ease out of Sherlock's body, and Sherlock ejects a moan as the movement stimulates his sensitive rim. John swallows the sound with a deep, hungry kiss, rubbing the back of Sherlock's hand with his thumb. Sherlock barely registers it. Then John presses his hot, open mouth to his jaw, making his way down his neck. Sherlock lies breathless as John showers him with kisses, his erection lying heavy on Sherlock's stomach as he leaves his caresses all over him. He is still unsteady as he regains his ability to move and leans into the touches, wrapping himself around John with heavy limbs.

“Christ, Sherlock,” John mumbles, “that was so fucking hot. You're so bloody gorgeous.” He interrupts himself with kisses to his chest, sucking his nipple between his lips before giving a gentle bite that has Sherlock whimpering. “God. How long until you can go again?”

“Half an hour,” Sherlock gasps, still panting and dizzy from the intensity of his orgasm. If John keeps up these touches, he's not going to take long.

“Alright. Perfect. I can wait.”

His leaking cock seems to tell another story, but John is nothing if not patient. He crawls over him, holding his face in his hands before kissing his lips, exploring Sherlock's mouth like it's the very first time when he parts them instantly to allow him access. The touch of his tongue is welcome and familiar, the sound he draws from him as he sucks his lower lip between both of his an intimately known melody. Sherlock rubs himself against John, needing the contact of his skin like air. They kiss for endless minutes, tasting each other thoroughly as they hold on tightly, slotted together from head to toe. Neither of them cares about the mess of Sherlock's release between them, wrapped up entirely in their closeness.

“You're amazing, love,” John murmurs against his lips, drawing back only to leave a path along his jaw. “Let me show you-” He interrupts himself by pressing kisses to his smooth skin- “how gorgeous you are.” Sherlock emits a sigh when he moves to his neck, licking over his pulse before paying special attention to the sensitive spot behind his ear. His teeth graze the skin ever so slightly before gently biting the soft flesh of his earlobe, sending jolts of arousal down his spine. For all Sherlock's remarks concerning John's observational skills, he rather deems him a genius when it comes to Sherlock's preferences in bed. He knows precisely where to kiss him to make him squirm, how to move his broad hands over Sherlock's lithe body to make him shiver, how to twist and move inside him to draw a string of moans from him that threatens to alert their neighbours.

John's hands join his lips on Sherlock's body, roaming over his chest as he continues his thorough examination. Sherlock gasps when he tweaks his nipples, immediately soothing the sharp sting with a kiss and a light suck. His hands move downwards as he catalogues the sensitive buds with his lips, stroking the firm flesh of his belly before going lower still, caressing the sensitive insides of Sherlock's thigh. The close proximity to his groin is a deliberate tease, and Sherlock's cock twitches in response to John's skilled ministrations.

“Yes, like that,” he murmurs, leaning into the touch when John's hand slips towards his cock. He gives him a gentle stroke, hardly enough pressure to account for the shiver running through Sherlock at the touch.

“Look at you,” John says, his tongue darting out to wet his parted lips. “So responsive. I love how eager you are for me.”

“I love _you,_ ” Sherlock sighs, groaning when he gets a rougher tug on his cock in response.

“I love you too,” John murmurs, sinking onto his lips again. “Beautiful. Gorgeous. Bloody marvel, you are.” Sherlock keens under the praise, and John, knowing exactly what his words do to him, gazes down at him with an adoring look. He swings a leg over one of Sherlock's, rubbing his erection on his thigh as he presses up against him. He moans into the kiss at the delicious friction, and Sherlock hums encouragingly, moving against him to offer a little relief for his strained arousal. John kisses him harder before he abruptly draws back, making his way down Sherlock's body with a line of hard, open-mouthed kisses, his saliva mingling with the sheen of sweat on the pale landscape of his skin.

Sherlock reaches for John as if in a haze, grasping his wrist, his surprisingly defined biceps, his good shoulder as he gives himself over to the enticing ministrations. John is not shy of leaving marks on him as he makes his way downwards, putting kisses and licks and teasing bites to his hips and the soft inside of his thigh. He nuzzles the area of Sherlock's groin, keeping up his light strokes all throughout. Sherlock's arousal builds steadily as his cock rises again under the expert touches, and by the time he is fully erect he is panting and writhing under John's capable hands.

John has gone back up to his belly, nuzzling the skin before he blows a raspberry there, and Sherlock twitches as he gives an involuntary giggle. John chuckles at the sound and slides down, finally turning his attention to his state of arousal. He presses a fleeting kiss to the tip of his cock, his tongue darting out to lick at the wetness awaiting him, then wraps his lips around the head and starts sucking ever so lightly. Sherlock cries out, his voice high and wrecked as his hand slips into John's hair.

But John has other ideas, clearly remembering their earlier plan whereas Sherlock's brain is fogged with lust. He eases off his cock and, after leaving a multitude of gentle kisses to the hard flesh, goes lower to tease Sherlock's perineum in the same way. He rubs his lips against the soft skin, kissing and licking along the path leading down to his arse. Sherlock exhales a sigh, then jolts when John's lips go lower still. He uses his hands to spread Sherlock further, not even faltering before he presses a kiss to his loosened entrance. Sherlock feels the tremor going through his entire body as the muscle twitches in response. His head swims with the sensation as John repeats the movement, clearly intrigued by his reaction. He feels boneless as his body melts into the sheets. The pounding of his heart is deafening in his ears, steadily accompanying his low whimper.

“John,” he murmurs, the word coming out completely wrecked, and John lifts his head to peak at him.

“Yeah, love?” he asks, his own voice hoarse from arousal, and Sherlock is reminded that unlike him, he has yet to come. Just imagining the level of arousal he must be facing makes him swallow, his face flushing even more.

“I'm ready,” he says, wrapping his legs around him to brush their cocks together. “Go on. Please. I want you to fuck me.”

John cants his hips, sliding their erections together in an enticing rhythm. They both gasp at the blissful friction, and Sherlock feels himself rising to almost painful hardness. “God, yeah. My pleasure,” John gasps, then pushes himself into a sitting position. He runs a hand through his hair – damp as well, Sherlock notes with satisfaction – and reaches for the bottle of lube. He coats his fingers, then leaves it on the side to grip Sherlock's pelvis. Sherlock lifts his hips to allow him to probe at his entrance, then slip two fingers inside to check that he is still slick and loose. He glances at Sherlock with a glint in his eyes as he adds a third finger, accustoming him to the stretch again. Sherlock expects the brush of his prostate and jolts anyway, gripping John's arm tightly.

“God, get in me,” he mutters, canting his hips. John chuckles, though his face is flushed in anticipation as well.

“Since you're asking so nicely,” he replies smoothly, and Sherlock's breath hitches in anticipation when he withdraws his fingers after a final spread. He gets into position, grabbing Sherlock by the hips to keep him in place. The touch of his strong, capable fingers on his sweaty skin is electrifying. John gives himself a quick tug, coating his cock with the lube from his fingers before he brings the tip to Sherlock's entrance. Sherlock huffs in impatience when he rubs over the sensitive rim instead of getting on with it, and it's with a chuckle in his throat that John finally pushes into him.

Sherlock's mouth falls open in a voiceless gasp at the suddenly increased stretch, still something different from the feeling of John's fingers moving inside him. He breathes against the pressure, deliberately making his body relax, welcome the touch. He adjusts to the strain soon, experimentally clenching his muscles a little as he shifts around. It's full, and tight, and it feels absolutely _wonderful_ , intimate and staggering, to be joint with John in this way. Of all the things they do together, this might be his favourite. He rarely feels closer to John than he does when they have sex like this, when he feels like he is filling him up entirely, reaching his very core. It's _magnificent_. Sherlock would marvel at the poetry of an act so basic and ordinary if his mind wasn't currently occupied otherwise, his focus narrowed wholly on John and the points of contact where their bodies connect.

“You okay?” John's voice is husky. He wets his lips, his eyes on his face the entire time. Sherlock meets his gaze, nodding him to continue.

“Perfect. Go on. More.” His arms come up to close around him as John complies with his wish and slowly pushes in all the way, leaving Sherlock gasping as the familiar sensation of having John in him takes over every cell of his body, leaving a tingling need that amounts to the basic, instinctive thought of _more._

They both still for a moment when John is fully seated, his hips touching Sherlock's arse. Their eyes meet as they look at each other, both panting for air as they just feel for a moment. Sherlock is the first to break into a smile, and John follows soon after, chasing the curve of his lips with a kiss that Sherlock gladly reciprocates. Then he draws back with a giggle, just far enough to look at him.

“I love you,” he says, his voice full of mirth and wonder, nudging his cheek with the tip of his nose. “God, you're amazing. You feel so good, you know that?”

“So do you,” Sherlock gives back, canting his hips in an attempt to get him moving. John picks up on it and, after leaning in to press another kiss to his lips, gives a shallow thrust, then another, slowly picking up a rhythm. It's a slow one, almost lazy, just enough to ease them both into it as they adjust to the feeling of their bodies being joint.

“Good?” he asks teasingly when Sherlock's lets out a deep breath, moaning softly as he tightens his hold on him. Sherlock snorts around the breathy sighs leaving his mouth.

“You have to ask?” he gives back, then immediately groans when John changes his angle ever so slightly, hitting exactly the right spot to send sparks down his spine. “Fuck,” he gasps, “do that again.”

John does, and Sherlock's body twitches with the pleasure rippling through him. “Again,” he murmurs, digging his nails into the skin of John's back while he picks up a steady rhythm, leaving Sherlock trembling with the continuous shocks of pure stimulation. One of his hands is gripping Sherlock's hips so hard that he'll likely leave marks – hopefully, Sherlock thinks hazily. His other hand moves up and down his side endlessly, the simple caresses setting his skin on fire as the sensations mount. Sherlock's eyes fall closed as he lets the physical stimulation take over his mind, drowning out everything else that doesn't amount to John or his touches.

His eyes fly open when John's hand wraps around his cock, giving a long stroke. John is grinning down at him, his chest heaving as he steadily moves his hips. “Look at me,” he says, stroking him again, slower this time. Sherlock's back arches when he adds a twist at the end, brushing his thumb over the wet and sensitive tip.

“You're playing dirty,” he murmurs, fighting against the urge to close his eyes in enjoyment as he holds John's gaze.

“I do so love seeing you let go like that,” John teases, leaning in to kiss him. Sherlock uses the opportunity to wrap his legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. John suddenly picks up his pace, letting his hips snap against Sherlock's body as he drives into him with enough force to bang the headboard against the wall. Sherlock cries out into his mouth, breaking the kiss as he gasps for air.

“John,” he yelps, his voice breaking on the single word, dragging his nails down his back as he tries to hold on. John hisses against his lips, his eyes glinting with arousal.

“Like that?”

Instead of answering Sherlock lets out a keen sound when he hits his prostate again, moaning into the kiss when John's lips meet his. He can't help the little cries he makes as he brushes the sweet spot with every other thrust, but John hardly seems to mind, if his pupils, hungry and blown wide in his flushed face, are anything to go by.

“I love the sounds you make,” he murmurs as if in a haze, and then he changes up his pace again, thrusting into his body a little faster and harder. He strokes his cock with endless patience all the while, never once faltering in the steady rub of his strong, positively delectable hand.

“John,” Sherlock groans, sliding his hands into his hair, rendered incapable of any more speech for the time being. John hums in acknowledgement, keeping up his rhythm for a moment before he slows down. Sherlock groans, feebly tugging at his hair in an attempt to get him to speed up again. Instead, John halts in his movements completely, giving him a wicked grin that lights up every part of his flushed face.

How he is in any state of mind to still tease Sherlock like this he doesn't know, but he can't really be bothered to care when next, John pulls out almost completely before pushing back into Sherlock's body so hard that all he can do is hold on for dear life. John growls at the whine he ejects, attacking him with a kiss that is more a slick slide of lips than anything else. It is glorious. He repeats the teasing movement a couple of times, driving Sherlock to a place between frustration and mindless agitation before he finally shows mercy.

He tilts Sherlock's hips with his hand to get a better angle before thrusting into him hard, going as deep as he can. His other hand resumes its strokes on Sherlock's cock, now leaking copious amounts of precome. His thumb brushes over the tip every so often, easing the slide as he spreads the fluid on his pulsing skin. He doesn't go easy on him this time, making it a point to hit his prostate as often as he can as he drives into him faster, harder, until Sherlock is whimpering beneath him. His body melts into a boneless puddle on the mattress as he clutches John's shoulder, the skin hot and flushed under his hand, trying to push back on his cock at the same time as thrusting into John's fist. He is caught between the two sensations, each entirely maddening and delicious in its own right, and it's impossible to decide whether to go back or forth. The stimulation builds and exploits his arousal, driving him to a point that is _this_ close to making him tumble over the edge. He lets out a string of high sounds and John groans, hanging his head as he continues to thrust into him, more shallowly and sensuous now, his chest heaving with every breath he draws. Sherlock lets out a shaky breath, trying not to whine at the change of pace.

John is breathing hard, clearly attempting to keep his composure as he gazes at him. “Fuck, you're so good, Sherlock. I'm getting close.”

“Then come,” Sherlock pants, digging his nails into his shoulders so hard that he is sure to leave marks as John teases his prostate with yet another brush, making sparks fly in his vision. “I'm close too. Come on.”

John looks up to catch his eyes, licking his lips as he shakes his head. “No, love, you first. I want to see you come again before I-”

His mouth drops open in a hiss when Sherlock clenches his muscles around him with a smirk, deciding that two can play that game of teasing. “Before I come,” he finishes when he finds his voice again, the words strangled. An intense look crosses his eyes. “Fuck. Well, if you want it like that...”

He grips Sherlock's hips tightly, squeezing his other hand around his cock before picking up a rhythm of strokes that is wrecking in its intensity. Sherlock lets his head fall back against the pillow and closes his eyes, allowing John to take over entirely. He is clearly determined to bring him to completion a second time before he comes himself, and Sherlock can't quite say that he minds as he underlays each stroke with a brush of his cock to his prostate, effectively pushing him towards the point of no return. Sherlock is lost to the world, his mind overwhelmed by the magnitude of his pleasure. He forces himself to open his eyes, his gaze settling on John. The sight and feeling of him moving inside Sherlock, on top of him, along with his hand working his cock relentlessly, is enough to give him the rest.

“Fuck, John, oh god,” Sherlock gets out, and that seems to do it for both of them. John grunts and pushes into him harder at the sound of his words, his hips snapping against his arse with every thrust. Sherlock cants his hips to ease the slide, allowing him to push in even deeper, and it only takes a dozen more of John's hard thrusts before Sherlock's mouth drops open in a cry. His back arches as his world dissolves into pure, white, searing bliss for the second time and he comes with a string of broken sobs, not as hard as the first time but intense enough to leave him hazy as the pleasure pulses through him. The sounds he makes only seem to drive John closer to the edge. He follows him within seconds, his thrusts coming so fast and hard it's almost erratic, and then he stills as he pushes into him with a final pierce, his body going rigid as he starts spending himself inside Sherlock.

The sounds leaving his mouth are heavenly, involuntary and raw and real. Sherlock's heart is still pounding in his chest as he pulls John down to lie on top of him, only half-aware of his surroundings. He feels utterly spent and blissed out, wrecked in the best possible way, and John is the only thing he wants and needs for this moment with all its sweat and messy fluids and the smell of sex heavy in the air to be perfect.

John doesn't seem any more inclined than him to do more than collapsing on top of him. They stay this way for what may be seconds, minutes, or hours, holding onto each other as their breathing and heart rate gradually return to normal. The film of sweat on their bodies dries slowly. Sherlock feels John's hand drawing circles on his body endlessly as they lie half on top of each other in messy, exhausted bliss.

When the adrenaline has passed and all that remains is utter saturation, John starts to chuckle. Sherlock can feel the joyous sounds bubbling up in him from where his chest is slotted to his, and then he giggles, and then he's burying his face in the crook of Sherlock's neck and Sherlock feels the laughter against his skin, warm puffs of air against the point where his pulse beats a steady rhythm underneath.

“What is it?” he asks, despite his own face already splitting into a grin. John's hand is rubbing his stomach, tightening on his hip as he tries to catch his composure.

“I just thought, I'm really fucking happy right now,” he finally gets out, taking a deep breath. He sighs with deep contentment, then turns to look at him. “You know, Sherlock, I've never been this bloody _gay_ in my life.”

Sherlock snorts as he starts laughing as well. The movements makes him aware of their bodies still being joint, with neither of them willing to part just yet despite the impending discomfort. “You're terrible,” he says through his chuckles, playfully slapping his arm. “That's a terrible pun. It's not even accurate. Remind me why people read your blog?”

John lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “Must be my compelling personality.”

Sherlock chuckles again. He squeezes his arms around John's back once, then says, “Well, I'm very gay too, in case you were wondering. In every sense of the word. That _was_ rather good.”

John lets out another sigh, then lifts his head to give him a loopy smile. “Bloody fantastic,” he declares, supporting his chin on Sherlock's chest.

“Spectacular,” Sherlock muses.

“Mind-blowing.”

They look at each other and burst into laughter. If Sherlock had any capacity for sexual pleasure left, the shared movements would be immensely arousing. As it is, he just feels happy and sated and wonderfully close to John in the most basic, beautiful way.

“I love you,” John says, heaving himself up to press a kiss to his lips. “Be right back.”

Sherlock lets out an involuntary moan when he gently slips out of him, his arse feeling overly sensitive by now from the thorough use. John presses an apologetic kiss to his palm, then slips out of bed. Sherlock hears him running the water in the bathroom, and a minute later he returns with a wet flannel.

“There we go,” he murmurs, kneeling back on the mattress as he first wipes Sherlock's belly and flaccid cock, then gently cleans his sensitive entrance as good as he can.

Sherlock hums. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” His lips curve into a smirk. “I know you're not getting out of bed for the foreseeable future, I don't want you getting uncomfortable.”

A smile pulls on Sherlock's lips. “I love you too.”

John chuckles. He drops the flannel over the edge of the bed, then wriggles closer to Sherlock again. “Come on, budge up.”

Sherlock complies readily. They end up slotted together again, as dishevelled and spent as they are. Sherlock reaches for John's hand once he's nestled up against his chest, tracing his fingers with his own as the room falls silent. He marvels at the hand he is holding, at what John is able to do with them. Those beautiful, clever, capable hands of his. He lifts his palm to his lips and presses a lingering kiss there, then laces their fingers together. John lets out a content sigh and closes his eyes.

Sherlock watches the lines of his face for a moment, peaceful and relaxed. Smiling, he closes his eyes as well. He idly thinks about a shower in the near future, that cup of tea he meant to have earlier after all, maybe even something to eat along with it. But all that can wait. He leans his cheek against the top of John's head, letting out a slow breath.

Everything else can wait, because for now he is perfectly happy to doze off with the love of his life in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> English isn't my native language, if you spot any mistake feel free to let me know! If there's anything at all you'd like to say, comments make me very happy :)


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